The Cough-Drop Stone
by Kye Above
Summary: Draco, thought dead since he disappeared at age six, was actually taken by an odd Muggle and a quiet Wizard. Five years later, now known as Drake, he reenters the world of magic and after a chance meeting with Harry, they find themselves on the path of mischief, as they 'try' together to solve the puzzle pushed their way.
1. Chapter 1

This story is not set in the same time period as the original canon, as a way to make things easier to pull off.

Also, for the sake of the story, Alfred and Matthew don't look the same. Alfred has the golden blond hair and blue eyes he normally has and Matthew has light blond hair and blue-violet eyes.

**Most Important Note: While there is minor, playful/joking AmeCan in this, nothing serious will actually happen between them.**

* * *

Dialouge Key:

_French_

**_The Language all the nations speak when they want understand each other and don't want humans to understand them_**

* * *

The day that Draco Malfoy first came into their care, Matthew realized just how great of a person his brother could actually be, despite his imperfections. Even though Matthew had protested at the time, he was glad that nothing had stopped Alfred from tricking that little boy and bringing him into their lives.

It had been after a meeting in London, in which Matthew found himself mutely walking behind his much louder counterpart, who insisted on complaining about the meeting, specifically one person. Matthew was only listening out of thin politeness. He honestly didn't care about Alfred's opinion of Arthur. He'd heard every bad thing that could be said about the man that had raised them both. Honestly, could Alfred be just a little less repetitive?

"And he's all 'America, you-'...hey what's that kid doing there alone?" Matthew's attention was immediately caught, and his gaze fell where Alfred was looking. Sitting on the street end, was a boy no older than six. He had an aura to him most inappropriate for someone his age to have. His blond hair was slicked back, and his clothing looked like something a parent would force their child into if they didn't see them fit to wear actual clothing. Matthew was the only one of the pair to notice how sophisticated he seemed, and how good of quality the robes were. Alfred simply saw a helpless and hurt child.

"What sick parent would do such a thing to a child?!" Alfred screeched, honestly upset, surprising Matthew. He rarely saw the other blond as defensive of anything, and other than his revolution, never had it been over something so seemingly serious. He followed after his brother as he stalked to where the boy sat, out of concern for the child, both the reason why he looked like he did, and that he didn't want Alfred to scare him.

"Hey, kid." Alfred said with actual concern. The boy looked behind him, glaring at them. Matthew was actually taken aback by the intensity it held, but Alfred wasn't faltered in the least. The boy looked away, and seemed ready to run, but Alfred acted first. "Look, I just want to know where your parents are." Without knowing the consequences it would cause, he placed a hand on the boy's shoulder. His reaction was immediate.

"Get your hands off me, you filthy Muggle!" The boy pushed Alfred's hand off him in disgust, before trying to bolt, only to run right into Matthew, who he hadn't seen until then. The Canadian grabbed him and picked the confused boy up, holding him in place. Matthew didn't even have time to react the word Muggle before the boy started fussing. "Let me go! Let me go!" He screamed, attracting attention from the people passing in the street.

"Unhand that boy right now, young man!" One woman quickly said sharply. People made a move to remove the struggling child from his arms. Even Alfred was seemingly unsure what to do, as he was doing nothing. So much for being the hero, Matthew thought. Thankfully, Matthew was able to construct a plan in the seconds before someone reached him.

"You've got it all wrong!" Matthew cried out in a practised Welsh accent, to give the air of not being Canadian. "He's my son. Sort of. My partner and I adopted him some time back, and he's still not adjusted to us. He insists on wearing the rags his birth parents forced him into, and he seems dead set on going back to those horrible people. We've been trying our best, but we're all still so young." Everyone was too concentrated on Matthew to notice the boy's protests and denial, his mouth covered by his captor's hand.

Alfred managed to slip into the role that the Canadian had temporarily given him, a smirk on his face, and a rare idea forming in his head. He skipped over and grabbed the boy from Matthew's arms, and whispered semi-threatening words into the boy's ears, stopping his struggle in its tracks. He ruffled the boy's hair to get rid of the slicked back look, much to his young captive's cries. He caught a glance inside the boy's robes and saw something written in dark green cursive. Since Arthur's teachings of the style of writing had not left him (unfortunately, Alfred would claim), he was able to make out what was written. His nose scrunched up at the seriously stuck up name, and another left his lips instead.

"Drake, do you really have to run away every time we ask you to put on some better clothes? Even the most redneck of my side of my family would call you crazy!" Alfred didn't bother to hide his own accent, earning some looks from the gathered crowd. The boy, dubbed Drake, faked sorrow, remembering Alfred's words to him.

"I am very sorry. I simply respect my parents much more than I respect you. Very much." The nations put up fronts of annoyance towards these words, Matthew face-palming and Alfred huffing. Some of the crowd laughed and began to thin out. Eventually everything was back to normal in the streets of London. Except of course, the two countries now saddled with a six year old child.

Alfred let Drake down on the ground, and the six year old glared up at Matthew, before his gaze fell back on Alfred, a quizzical look on his face. Alfred smiled down at the blond boy, a mischievous look in his eyes. Drake was trying to smooth out his hair again as Alfred spoke next.

"So what's a Muggle?" Drake froze at this question, his fingers caught in between his now spiky hair. Matthew knew the term vaguely, having dealt with British Wizards before, so that meant the boy was one of those odd wizards. Where were his parents then? Matthew himself represented the magical part of North America. So he didn't expect Drake's answer.

"What do you mean? You said you weren't a Muggle when you grabbed me!" Drake looked ready to run once again, having realized that he had been tricked. By Muggles no less! He'd even put up with their little act. But Matthew stopped him by grabbing him again, holding him close.

"Please don't make a scene again." Matthew pleaded, and Drake barely complied. Making another scene could get him away from the two after all. But that meant that more Muggles would be helping him. While Matthew was struggling to understand what could be running through the boy's head, Alfred was simply laughing at the little boy's question.

"I told you that so you'd trust me! Now, seriously. What's a Muggle? You speak totally different than me. I don't understand your British way of speaking! The only other time that I've been called a Muggle is when I caught my pal Arthur talking to his imaginary friends one time. He never did explain what it meant, so I'm asking you." Drake continued to glare at the American, and he spoke crisply, in defence of what he believed.

"Those 'imaginary friends' are not so imaginary. Your 'pal' is a clearly a wizard like me. I request to see him immediately, so he can return me to my own world.(1)" He seemed to be as serious as a child could be, which stopped Matthew from laughing himself, but it didn't stop Alfred. Alfred was a firm denier of magic, and believed the boy to be caught up in some make-belief world.

Drake scowled, wanting to rid himself of the stupid Muggles who had dared to stray onto his path. Alfred managed to slow his laughing down to the occasional chuckle. Another idea formed in his mind, his heroism kicking in. It was perfect! He grinned, and decided to humour the child.

"Sure, we'll take you to him. Come on Drake, my child, and Mattie, my love." He turned to walk away, before breaking into a slow run. Drake looked up the flustered Canadian, looking serious still. It was unnatural.

"I demand to be put down. And my name is Draco, not the stupid shortening that your lover has insisted on placing on me." Matthew compiled, all why saying that there wasn't really anything between him and Alfred and it had been a lie, which the boy was indifferent to. Both caught up quickly with Alfred, who had intentionally ran slow. Matthew took a place beside Alfred.

**_"Are we really taking him to Arthur?"_** Matthew didn't want their young charge to know what they were saying, and he really hoped that Alfred would take the obvious hint. Thankfully, he did.

**_"Hell no. If that boy believes in the same things that Arthur does, I don't want that man anywhere near our little Drake!"_** Alfred said, looking down at the blond child that was more intent on following them than trying to figure out what they were saying. Matthew raised an eyebrow at Alfred's words, though he couldn't help but agree. But there was something else troubling about these words.

**_"Since when did he become ours?"_**

Alfred smiled at him, his eyes sparkling.

**_"You said it yourself back there. He's our kid! We could raise him...like brothers!"_ **Alfred gained a skip in his step, while Matthew gained a frown. This was wrong, he knew. How bad would it look if a nation committed the crime such as the ones that Alfred was suggesting they do, when they were so against their people committing it?

**_"This is pretty much kidnapping. We really should find his parents."_** To make things worse, the boy was a wizard. He parents were probably looking for him. Unless, of course, he was a Squib. His parents could have abandoned him if his was. No, Matthew thought, if he was abandoned, he probably wouldn't have been left in such good condition, or asking to go back. He would have been told to never return.

**_"Forget his parents. They must have been bad people! He's ours and that's final!"_**

And it really turned out to be final, as Matthew didn't protest again, though he wanted to. Matthew would always regret not speaking up just a little bit, but it was mostly hidden over the pride of having another child to raise, once Draco stopped complaining about his captors and accepted who he had become and who he would turn into:

Drake Williams-Jones, a proud American-Canadian that grew up with a loving and widely different large family, who would be foolish enough to befriend Harry Potter. Or maybe Harry Potter was foolish enough to befriend him.

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1- Draco doesn't have much knowledge of Muggles at this time passed the fact that they are below him and not to be respected. He doesn't realize that they don't know about magic.

As for why Draco is in Muggle London, other then a bout of curiosity, well, that is quite relevant to the plot. I can't say it now.


	2. Chapter 2

Thanks for all the response guys! I'm glad that people seem to like this story. I can only hope that I can continue to keep people interested.

**Edit November 2014: Has been combined with the previous chapter 3.**

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The five years passed eventfully for the new family, though exactly what happened is not important at the time. All the needs to be known is that it had taken over a year to crack through the boy's haughty shell, but Alfred and Matthew always knew that they had done the right thing. Eventually, even Drake's tales of wizards and witches subsided, but they knew he hadn't forgotten the tales that he believed, since he occasionally called Matthew and Alfred Muggles in times of annoyance or endearment.

But he never did that around Arthur, after Drake's existence had been revealed to the other nations when he was seven, and they had finally been introduced. Alfred had been worrisome for the longest time that meeting Arthur would only cause problems and would destroy all his and Matthew's hard work, or that Arthur would entertain Drake's thoughts of magic. But it hadn't happened, as Drake never mentioned his magical past around Arthur and neither did Matthew. Drake didn't want to go back anymore, and Matthew never wanted him to leave.

Once he spent enough time around his new guardians, Drake came to dislike his father for trying to make him believe in all the things he had. He now knew that not all Muggles were evil, though it had taken well over the first year for that to reach his morals. Now, he truly hated the word Mudblood. He now realized that the blood of Muggleborns were just the same as any other wizard. As any human! All humans were humans, and most deserved respect. They could all get along if they tried, even Wizards and Muggles. It had been Matthew and Alfred who put the on-set of those morals into him, but he had come to many of those conclusions on his own. He doubted anyone in the wizarding world would have ever done that for him.

Overall, life was good.

* * *

A week before the anniversary of the day Matthew and Alfred found him alone on that corner, Drake opened his silver eyes to the early afternoon, finally judging himself ready to get out of bed after the long night. He'd been dozing for longer than he could be sure, and the fogginess had mostly fallen away from his mind as he pulled himself up. Reaching over beside him, Drake retrieved his sunglasses, a gift from one of his many Uncles.

Out of a years old habit, he also grabbed a pre-filled spray bottle from the side table before placing his bare feet on the cold floor. It was his way of fighting off the joke attacks his new family often tried on him. He could never tell when Alfred, or any of his family, would try and strike. He'd been caught off guard so many times, that he was a little paranoid. Alfred said that it kept him alert and ready to defend himself in case of attack. While it was working, it was also quite annoying.

Once he was sure that no one was under the bed – his friend Peter had tried that recently, and was prone to repeating himself – Drake smiled and practically skipped out of the room, holding the spray bottle like it was a loaded gun. He checked every corner before he turned, spraying down the hallway and seeing if anyone made a sound, until he finally made it to the kitchen. The smell of pancakes travelled up his nose, and he sighed happily.

Matthew stood at the stove, alone in the kitchen until Drake entered it. Humming to himself the Canadian national anthem, he placed another pancake onto a pile of extra ones left over from his own breakfast, just in case Drake had wanted some. That would be the last one for that particular batch. As Drake sat down at the table, playing with his hair, Matthew turned around to smile at him.

"Morning, Windsor.(1)" Matthew said with joy in his eyes, using his nickname for Drake. Drake smiled back at him. "Want these pancakes? I made too much batter, and Alfred's not here to eat the extra ones. Meeting with the boss and all..." Drake remembered Alfred mentioning that meeting the night before, so he wasn't surprised.

"Of course I'll take the pancakes!" As Matthew brought the plate over to the table, Drake went to the fridge and grabbed out, not syrup like Matthew would have wanted, but raspberry jam. Drake didn't like syrup – Maple or fake – all that much, which horrified Matthew. But they had eventually agreed to never bring it up. That is, not often.

"Every single province and territory...(2)" Matthew said loud enough, shaking his head, as Drake returned to the table. "They all love syrup on their pancakes." Drake rolled his eyes, not wanting to bring that up. He opened the jar in a mocking fashion, and smirked at his 'Alfred-dubbed' mother.

"I'm not like your family. I'm American." He stated as he spread the jam on the first pancake on the plate. Matthew chuckled, and shook his head once more.

"And when you get sick, you're Canadian. Pick a side." Matthew said, with a laugh at the end.

"Never." Drake laughed himself, and continued along with preparing his pancakes. "And you should be glad I'm not anything like the provinces, territories, or especially the states. Owen's a self-centred asshole, Olivier-Louis is immature and insane, Jet is too obsessed with her appearance, Edward thinks that he has the ability to function like a normal adult..." Matthew listened to every word, drumming his fingers on the wooden table as his son spoke.

"And you're nothing like that?" Matthew asked. Drake put his hands up defensively and giggled. Their next bouts of laughter were cut short by a tapping at the window. Both looked at the source in confusion, and both were surprised to see it was an owl pecking at the window. While Matthew got up to see if there was a reason (maybe the owl had gotten caught on something, eh?), Drake's confusion quickly subsided when he realized what it was all about. Somehow, despite the three living across the pond, an owl from the UK had found him. He should have known that somehow he'd be forced back into the wizarding world,.He didn't even have to see the letter to know what it was. He'd recently turned eleven. He was already constructing a rejection letter to Hogwarts.

Then he realized, that by rejecting them, they'd know he was still around. His father had once explained to him that the letters wrote themselves, based on a list, so no one yet knew that he'd been sent a letter. He couldn't just ignore it though, he though solemnly, as he also knew what would happen then. That was why he didn't stop Matthew as the Canadian opened the window to see what was wrong with the bird, unintentionally letting it in. Matthew let out a cry of surprise as the owl flew towards Drake. He had to let this happen, lest it only cause trouble latter.

That didn't mean that he wasn't going to squirt the owl in the face with his spray bottle. The poor bird might not've had anything to do with the situation, and it was never good to be cruel to animals, but he was sort of pissed off. He didn't want to go back to the world of magic.

As the owl squawked over being sprayed in the face with water, Drake picked up the letter that it had dropped with mild interest. Matthew eyed him only briefly, before attempting to get the bird back outside, a hockey stick conveniently making it into his hands. There had been no hockey stick in the room before then. Drake had stopped noticing these things, and even if he was concerned, he was more set on getting the letter opening done. He broke the seal, and quickly skimmed the letter.

Drake had always been told as a young boy that receiving his Hogwarts letter would be the most joyous moment of his younger years, but all he felt then was disgust. Would it really be as simple as that? Going back to the Wizarding World and having his parents use all their power to gain custody of him again? The thought of them left a bad taste in Drake's mouth. While he wouldn't mind seeing his mother again, if he had to see his father's ugly mug, he would scream.

He scanned the letter over again, and it seeming so innocent and unassuming. It was currently the bane of his existence, and he really wanted to ignore it. He could take his chances and send back a rejection letter, even if it could spark an investigation; an investigation his parents would hire someone to lead, but not out of care for him. If he decided to go , he would be forever hounded by all of those that knew of his disappearance. Either way, it didn't look at all good for him. "Fuck…" He muttered to himself, before going off into a string of Quebecois sacres.

This was not good...

"Drake. What did I tell you about repeating what Olivier-Louis taught you in an attempt to spite me?" Matthew asked, walking back over to the table in curiosity, with the owl strangely sitting on his shoulder. Drake looked up in surprise, having forgotten that Matthew was there. His guardian eyed the letter and the owl that he'd obviously made peace with, somehow. "So what's that letter about?"

Drake honestly didn't know what he could tell him. He'd always assumed Matthew was like Alfred, denying magic like it was the plague. To suddenly spring this upon him, after they'd all agreed to never bring it up again, seemed wrong. But Matthew's gazed, turned worrisome, made Drake tell him then, instead of springing it on him later.

"Well, you know all that magic I used to talk about?" He asked hesitantly, fingering the letter and shifting his gaze. He saw Matthew nod out of the corner of his eye. Quickly, Drake spoke. "Well, it really is real and I know you don't believe in it, but you've got too since my old world will be hounding me soon, no matter what I do, and you and Alfred will be in the middle of it! It might be hard to believe but-" Matthew hushed him, smiling.

"I am well aware of magic, Drake." The blond haired boy gaped. Why hadn't Matthew said this before? "Alfred on the other hand, has never really had a grasp of it. I don't even think he's capable of it. I, on the other hand, well, how else have you been explaining Kumajirou?" He laughed to himself, before holding his hand out for the letter. With shaking hands, Drake gave it to him, before falling into a mental rant.

All those years that Matthew had laughed at him for believing in magic had hopefully been as a rouse for Alfred. He didn't want to think that Matthew had actually been laughing at him. Again, why hadn't Matthew brought magic up beforehand? They had plenty time alone together, away from Alfred, if that was what Matthew had been worried about. He was broken from his thoughts when Matthew tapped that parchment.

"So this Hogwarts, I guess it's a magic school?" Drake nodded. Matthew scanned it over again. "I guess it must also be in the UK." He placed it down on the table, obviously displeased. "Drake, eat your pancakes while I think this over, and do a little research on this Hogwarts. And we'll talk about my knowledge of magic later, kay?" After a few moments, Drake broke eye contact with Matthew and reached for his fork and knive. The pancakes had cooled much during the letter fiasco. It didn't really matter to him though.

As Matthew walked out of the kitchen, a pained look on his face and the owl still on his shoulder, Drake started to really consider Hogwarts, and not the public's reaction to his return. He could learn to control his accidental bouts of magic, which Alfred was running out of reasonable explanations for, and learn new magic! But that seemed to be the only good thing.

And people! He'd have to deal with other humans, and not the countries, provinces, territories, states and other personifications he had come to love (Except Owen. He could suck it). He wasn't sure if he would be able to handle it.

* * *

There's still a chapter or two before Drake prepares for Hogwarts. Alfred still has to make a international crisis over the letter, after all.

1 – Windsor: A Canadian town very close to the US border. It is also the name of a place in England. I though it seemed fitting to use as a nickname for Drake.

2 – The Provinces, Territories and States will not appear outside of mentions, but Drake has grown up around them.


	3. Chapter 3

Here's the new chapter 3~! I hope it's good enough. I don't like it myself, but whatever.

I'm sorry to any people from Ontario that I might have offended last chapter before I edited it. I thought more people would get the joke, but apparently not. When it's said that all people of Ontario 'could suck it', it was to be assumed that due to the implication that Drake hadn't been around other humans in years, so never actually meeting someone from Ontario, but having met the personification of Ontario (built from the stereotypes of the country. This is Hetalia after all), he assumed that all people from Ontario were like that. I know very well that not all people from there are like the stereotype. Now that I've explained the bad joke, let's move on.

Also, I may have accidentally lied when I said the Provinces and States wouldn't appear outside of mentions. One province gets a small part in this chapter, mostly in the form of a string of letters. I hope you don't mind.

* * *

Ten minutes later later found Matthew sitting in his room, writing a letter. He needed to find out more about Hogwarts, but due to his considerable lack of knowledge of Wizards from the UK, he had been at a loss. He was sure that any message he sent Arthur would be ignored or assumed to somehow be a prank by Alfred despite the latter's lack of knowledge of Hogwarts, so he couldn't take the easy route. He also wasn't in contact with any of the well knowledged human wizards he knew of, and he decided it would be strange for them to receive a letter from an unknown person. That had left him with only one option that he could think of; one he didn't like at all. He had realized that he needed to contact the people he had been trying to avoid as much as he could ever since he left Canada to live with Alfred, to make dealing with Drake easier.

The letter he had written was simple. Information on Hogwarts and nothing else. He didn't need a repeat of all the times he had cross paths with the Provinces in the past five years, as most of them were beyond angry at him for 'abandoning' Canada. The owl sitting on his windowsill looked expectant, but Matthew shook his head. He didn't need an owl. No one of magic in North America had used animals to send messages after a spell had been created to replace them. They all now could have easily used emails, but it was the novelty of being able to use magic that kept it strong.

He muttered the incantation, not needing a wand for at least a century and a half, for the wonderful spell that a Canadian Wizard had developed decades before. It's purpose was simple, and worked a lot like the emails of the modern age. The spell would send copies of a letter to whoever the castor specified, the new letter appearing close to the intended receiver. Every North American Wizard used the spell, but while it was starting to creep into places in the rest of the world, it had yet to reach the UK, and Matthew doubted that it ever would. If there was one thing he knew for sure about British Wizards, it was that even at wand-point, most would not give up their old customs, even though pretty much the rest of the world had at least started to.

Matthew then waited, leaning back in his chair, as the owl hopped over to him. It found itself a place on Matthew's lap, and refused to leave or let Matthew touch him. He sighed, trying to get comfortable, though finding that impossible with the way the owl sat on his lap. He'd give anything for it to be Kumajirou there instead. It would make the suspense more bearable. He began to lose hope after ten minutes minutes of waiting, but then, in a puff of wispy red smoke, a letter appeared on his desk, causing the owl to jump up and fly away in surprise. One would assume, being around wizards its entire life, magic wouldn't have been a problem, but apparently not.

Hoping that it wasn't an expression of hate, Matthew grabbed for the letter. It was written in blue ink, though a shade that wasn't commonly found in pens. This clued Matthew in to who had actually replied before he had even noticed the handwriting.

**Why do you need to know about Hogwarts? It's a British school. It shouldn't matter to you. **

Deciding to accept the reply instead of complaining that it was _him _of all of them, Matthew wrote a quick reply, and cast the spell again. The two soon found themselves in a conversation through notes.

**Well, Drake's magical, and, well...Alfred and I kidnapped him from Arthur's country, and I guess since he never stopped being a citizen, a school there wants to teach him magic.**

It took longer then Matthew would have hoped for the next letter to arrive, but Matthew knew that the content had to be considered. It still worried him though.

**Drake's got magic? No surprise there! I must remember to collect a few bets. Now you kidnapping him, that surprises me a bit, since I know you quite well -You practically raised me!- but it explains very much about just why you and Fat-face haven't let Drake be around other people. Wouldn't want people some how making the connection to a poor missing boy after all! It also complicates things for you, since if Drake is English, he'll have to go to an English school. Though, if you're up for the challenge, you could always try to find a way around that. But most legal systems don't listen to kidnappers. Sucks to be you.**

**I hate it when you're right. So, do you know anything about Hogwarts? What it's like, what classes they teach?**

**No. Vic might know more, since he specializes in much then just his 'magical herbs', but I assume that you sent letters to everyone and that I'm the only one who's replied. I laugh at that!**

Matthew paused a moment before writing his reply. Something told him that he would have to get some 'magical herbs' before all of this was over. He'd have to talk to Washington or Colorado (their human names escaped him) about getting some for him. He most certainly wouldn't be able to get some from Victor.

**You wouldn't have happened to have had some of those 'magical herbs', have you? You seem a little less grouchy, moody, angry, and more willing to talk to me.**

**Non, none of that. Just too much maple syrup.**

Typical, Matthew thought as he laughed to himself, gaining a look from the owl, who had replaced itself on the windowsill. For Olivier-Louis, Maple Syrup was some kind of intoxicating beverage, that affected him more then alcohol. Matthew smiled, think of the fun times that he had once he discovered that. But before Matthew could write his next letter, there was a crash from downstairs, and a screech. He sensed the wave of magic in the air shortly afterwards. Panic rose in his mind, and he scratched out a quick letter and shouted the spell, leaping out of his chair to make sure that Drake was alright.

* * *

**There's trouble downstairs. I have to go check it out. Ask BC about Hogwarts, will you?**

Olivier straightened his beret and looked down at the bottle of maple syrup in his hands, blinking a few times. Talk to Victor? After what the guy did to him months before? Not likely. He'd rather talk to his dreaded neighbour instead of his dreaded former 'best friend', and he hated the personification of Ontario ever since they were kids. Even the maple syrup rush wasn't enough to make him care too much about Matthew's problem. So no, he would not ask Vic about Hogwarts. Matthew could deal with that himself.

Pleased with himself, he tossed the notes away, and went back to reading his boy love manga. Life was good once again.

* * *

Little did Matthew know, the sight he came across when he arrived in the room where he could sense the fresh burst of magic from would not shock him. He actually saw it as cruelly amusing. On the couch of the living room, he found Drake with his hands on his face, his blank-screened laptop on his lap. Matthew was sure he knew exactly what had happened. Magic and Technology didn't mix, and a case of an accidental burst of magic had obviously risen.

Drake looked up at him with mournful eyes, a frown on his face. Matthew walked over and sat down beside him. Drake leaned into his favourite guardian and sighed, pushing his laptop to the side. Matthew put an arm around his shoulder.

"I don't want to go to Hogwarts, and after that, I don't think I even want magic." Drake said, annoyed. Matthew could understand completely. He remembered the frustration he felt when he first started using technology, only for it to short out on him, if not completely stop working. It was a pain, but he learnt to contain his magic eventually. An idea struck him suddenly. Maybe he could teach Drake instead! It wasn't like he had much else to do those days. They could just ignore the letter and-

"The letters are enchanted, I think I was told once by my father. I didn't think of it until after you left. _They_ know when a letter has been opened, and I opened my letter!" He held his head in his hands once again, groaning. "They must know that I'm still around. They'll track the letter, and take me away from you! But I don't want that." Matthew held him tighter as Drake began to sob. No one was taking Drake away on his watch.

"It's going to be alright. We'll think of something, hopefully. Maybe I could talk to Arthur -if he remembers I exist, that is- about all this. He's the nation, after all. He'd probably have higher status in the magical world then the stupid parents you used to have." Drake froze, shaking his head. "What did I say wrong, Drake?" Drake removed his hands from his face, but did not look at Matthew.

"I doubt that my 'parents' would even listen to the nation. They're horrible people. I'm so glad I left them and that you and Alfred found me. I'm always grateful for that." A small smile crossed Matthew's face. Drake had said it many times before, but it was lovely to hear it every time. At a time like then, it was especially nice. It truly told him that Drake didn't want to leave him and Alfred behind.

"Were they really that bad?" Drake simply nodded. "Well, I'll do the best I can to make sure that you don't have to go back to them. They're severely bigoted and uptight idiots, right?" Drake nodded again. "I met one of those people once. I think his name was...Tom Riddle? It was years ago, and I really don't like remembering him, so I'm not sure. If your parents are anything like them, and you have to go live with them, I'll find a way to burn down their house, doing a little dance like Arthur did when he burnt down the White House in 1814." Drake cracked a smile.

"That was Uncle Arthur? Alfred always said that it was you who burnt it down." Matthew laughed.

"He barely remembers the War of 1812. I doubt that he'd remember that detail after all these years. I like the looks of fear he sometimes gives me, so don't tell him the truth." They laughed together, and Drake felt much better afterwards. This would be something he would miss if he left. The two fell into an odd conversation, magic completely absent, and before they knew it, two hours had passed, and they were interrupted by a familiar event.

The sound of the front door slamming open, followed by a cry of "The Hero has arrived!" sounded through the house, and the two were brought back to reality. Matthew and Drake exchanged knowing glances, before Matthew voiced that they would have to tell Alfred about Drake's magic, or else it could cause more problems later. It was easier said then done.

"Wait, seriously?! There's no way!" Alfred started laughing at the two other males in front of him. "Sure, it would be cool if it was, but magic isn't real. Did England set you up to this? It's a horrible attempt at a prank. Tell him that when you report to him." Matthew decided that he would stay silent, and allow Drake to make his point. It might sound better coming from him.

"I'm telling you da-I mean, Alfred! Magic is real! Look, here's the letter I received from a school that wants to teach me how to control!" Drake tried handing the letter over, but Alfred pushed it aside in favour of another matter, which had brought a bigger smile to his face. He pulled Drake into a unexpected hug.

"Did you almost call me dad? Awesome!" Drake let the hug go on, while Matthew simply smiled at the scene. "You should call me that all the time!" He let Drake go, and he pushed his glasses up back onto his nose. "So, what's this about a letter?" Drake handed it over without a word. Alfred only looked at the address before freaking out. Confusion and panic rose in his eyes. "What the hell? How could they get it this detailed?!" Matthew tried to help before it got out of hand.

"Well, magic probably. Now, if you'd ju-" But Matthew could not finish, as Alfred was now on his own plane of thinking.

"Drake, Mattie! We have to get out of here! Who ever they are, they're watching the house!" Horror crossed his face. "Mattie, they must know we're nations if they're that interested in us! We have to tell the others and quick." He grabbed the hands of his two surprised housemates. "Don't worry, the hero will protect you!" Both Matthew and Drake tried to reason and protest with the close-minded nation, but they soon found themselves in the back of Alfred's car.

"We'll drive around for a bit, maybe stop at McDonald's, before switching cars! That should confuse them!" He said before laughing proudly for thinking of such a plan.

Drake and Matthew looked at each other, both knowing this would not end well.

* * *

Silly Alfred!

I would have had this written sooner, but instead of blaming school this time, I'm blaming my novel, which I'm really into writing right now. Sorry.

Edit: Reviewers of the previous chapter 3 will be unable to review again, since the system on this site is stupid. If you really want to review, and I hope you do, switch to anonymous, and review that way, using your username so I can send you a reply.


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